nowhere

every once in a while,
I reach the end
of a road
I thought was a road,
to realise in the walls
within walls
of my skin,
that I'm levitating
in the middle of nowhere,
looking around
for a sign,
for something,
for anything,
to speak to me,
when there is nothing;
only a black void
sucking me in slowly,
and all I can hear
is the rush of blood
crashing into those walls
over and over again,
not looking, for anything.